Sleep In Your Office Instead
by reliayay
Summary: George Washington finds Alexander in his office late at night. This is set about a week after Reynolds Pamphlet, and told from Washington's POV. Please also note that this piece has also been posted to AO3 by me.
1. Sleep in your office instead

This story is historically inaccurate

A/N: I got this idea when listening to Burn, specifically when Eliza says 'You sleep in your office instead'. About halfway in, I nearly changed Washington to Jefferson instead, because I am such a hardcore Jamiton shipper it's almost sad. I don't think I'll be continuing this, but we'll see what happens.

I walked down the hallway, about to leave. I saw a light on in one of the offices. I looked at the nameplate on the door, wondering who was in so late. Hamillton. Of course it was. That man never stopped working. Glancing up at the large office clock at the end of the hallway, I realised just how late it was. Having heard no reply, I knocked again before pushing the unlocked door slightly open.

"Hamilton?"

The man was sitting at his desk, furiously writing away on a piece of paper. He didn't seem to have heard me. Around him were stacks of papers, some for reference, but the majority of them were covered in what looked like Hamilton's handwriting. God, did he really do all of this is the past few days? One of the stacks seemed as high as the man himself, hunched over the paper he was writing, seemingly having been unable to reach the top and had begun a new stack.

"Hamilton!"

His head shot up, eyes unfocused. He looked at me confused.

"Sir? Why are you here? It's already," He glanced at where the small clock on his desk was, now covered in papers, "Uhm, very late,"

"It's 1.45 AM, Hamilton, I want to know why you're here as well. I know you haven't gone home for the past four days, so I must insist, go home Alexander!"

He looked away from me and stared down at his paper. He picked up his pen and dipped it in ink before placing the pen on paper and writing again.

"I trust you've seen the Reynolds Pamphlet, sir?" His voice was void of emotion.

I was dubious. I had a vague idea of where this conversation was going, and I didn't like it.

"Yes, I have,"

"Then you should know why I can't go home. Good night, Mr President."

Hamilton finished the conversation, allowing himself to be fully absorbed in his writing again. But I was not about to let this slide.

"When was the last time you ate, Hamilton?"

"You're still here?" He muttered under his breath. "Oh, uh, about three? I think? I can't remember."

"Alexander, you're going home,"

"I CAN'T, WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" He exploded on me. He had gripped his pan so hard it seemed like it was going to snap.

"Calm down. You're going home. With me,"

"What?" His previous rage flowed out of him. He lifted his head slowly and stared at me, dumbfounded.

"Put your poor pen down. It looks like it's going to snap. Get your coat. You're coming home with me,"

He stood up, his brain seemingly having been unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Martha will have a nice warm meal ready for you. Come on, let's go,"

I lead the tired man out of the office, shutting the office door behind us.


	2. Sleep in your house instead

A/N: From this chapter on, this story will be written in third-person.

Washington led Hamilton through the corridors of the house. Martha had cooed and fussed over how thin Hamilton was, constantly filling his plate every time he took even just one bite. She finally stopped when George lightly admonished her, telling her that at the rate she was putting food on Alexander's plate, he would never finish his plate of stew. After the meal, George suggested playing a round of cards when Martha noticed Alexander's eyes drooping. Martha immediately insisted on retiring for the night, after all, it was 3 AM and George also needed to go to work the next day.

"Here is your room, son," The room, though small, was rather lush and cosy, and definitely more expensive than anything Alexander could ever afford. Seeing the bed, it sent his mind to his own bed at home, and Eliza. Oh, how he had let her down. How could he have fallen for Maria Reynold's charms?

"Son?" Hamilton snapped out from his thoughts, realising that he was still standing in the doorway of the guest room. It occurred to him that Washington might have spoken to him while he was lost in thought.

"Sorry, sir. Did you say anything?" Washington looked at him oddly.

"Yes. I've called in sick for you tomorrow, yes I know you're not sick, and I didn't actually call myself, but you know what I mean. Don't you dare come near the offices tomorrow, but I doubt you'd even get far from the house without Martha chasing you down and pulling you back in."

"But sir!" Alexander took two steps into the room towards Washington, ready to defend his right to going to work the next day.

"No arguing. Now, goodnight Alexander."

With that final note, he left Alex still standing two steps into the room.

A/N: This chapter was written on a train ride.

Okay, so first off, in case it's not obvious yet, I'm changing this from a one-shot to a maybe two- or three-chapter work, because I've written out some of the next chapter already, on that same train ride. I'm sorry this one is so short, I just needed to get the night out of the way, but I promise the next one is longer, much longer. I'm changing it to third-person because it's easier for me to add feelings and thoughts of all the characters this way, and also it's uncomfortable for me to write in first-person.

As always, I have no beta nor am I in need of one. As for any mistakes, please point them out to me so I can correct them quickly! Have a nice day :)


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